Chief gave up on the idea. Never mind the map. Joe wasn’t going to be of any help. 

“Left, Chief, turn left!” Joe screamed suddenly. Against his better judgement, Chief listened and turned hard in front of an oncoming car. The car’s brakes squealed and its tires smoked. Chief gunned the pumpkin down a side street. 

“Right, Chief, turn right!” Joe yelled. Again Chief listened, then he glanced in the rearview mirror. The black car was gone. They had lost them . . . whoever “them” was. 

“Nice work, Chief. We pulled the classic Righty-Lefty. Works every time. I learned it in spy school,” Joe said confidently. 

“Spy school?” Chief spluttered. Joe laughed. “Nahhh, I’m just messin’ with ya. But it sounded good, didn’t it, Chief?” 

The street was getting narrower and narrower and the houses farther and farther apart, until eventually, there was nothing but a dirt road in front of them. A big yellow sign read, “Dead End–No Trespassing.” 

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